I gasp. My throat constricts.
“You think I enjoyed what Luther did to me?” I can’t keep the shock from my voice.
“You give him exactly what he wants because you love the dick. We all know. Luther does, too. He laughs about how pathetic you are.”
He’s serious. He truly believes I enjoyed the torture.
“That’s why you stayed the longest. Luther loves that you love him.”
“Well, Luther’s dead.” I burst to my feet, about to plant my foot into his ribs. “Robert, Chris, Tadd, Argus, and all the rest, too. And you’re next.”
“Hey.” Luca starts toward me, cutting me off before I reach my target. “What’s going on?”
“It’s not true.” I attempt to walk around him, to get to Otis, only to have the wall of muscle sidestep into my path. “He’s wrong.”
“Wrong about what?”
I shake my head, my cheeks heating. I can’t repeat the conversation. I don’t want anyone to even question what I did. How I survived. But my depraved strategy haunts me. I did give Luther what he wanted. I worked hard to make sure I was his favorite.
“Don’t let him get to you.” Luca steps closer, his hands reaching toward my arms.
I bat away his touch. “Don’t let him get to me?” I keep repeating those words in my head, but can’t quit the resentment that follows. Luca is asking for the impossible. Otis is already under my skin, his toxicity speeding through my veins.
“He’s taunting me.” My voice cracks. “He’s practically laughing at me.”
“That’s the drugs. Things will change once we get him back to Torian.”
I’m not appeased. Not in the slightest. Setting Otis on fire, one slow inch at a time, wouldn’t give me enough satisfaction. “What will you do to him?”
“Whatever necessary to get information.”
Information.
Shit.
“I-I was meant to help you find Luther’s office. And the safes,” I ramble, trying to drown out more regret. “I forgot.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get this fucker to talk. He’ll give us a lead or two.” He jerks his head toward the bench seat. “You should sit down and rest.”
How can I sit when the scum of the earth thinks I enjoyed my punishments? How could I possibly rest with those accusations hanging over my head?
God. I feel so dirty. So worthless.
I turn away, dragging my feet to the back of the boat to stare across the inky black. It would be too easy to jump over the edge with one of those duffels tangled around my feet. I’d drown, the death not coming quickly or painlessly, but at least my suffering would soon be over.
There would be no more taunts of illusive freedom.
I’d finally escape this hellish existence.
“She’s a fucking whore.” Otis’s voice raises over the purr of the boat. “A dead whore.”
I close my eyes and wrap my arms around my middle, the weight of Luca and Sebastian’s judgment on my shoulders.
I don’t flinch at the thud that sounds moments later, or the cry of masculine pain.
“Ignore him, Penny,” my brother demands. “Just fucking ignore him.”
I try my best, but the alternate thoughts lying in wait are all about Chloe. About death and fear and failure.
By the time we reach Torian’s island, I want to vomit. Bile teases the back of my throat. The only thing stopping me from falling to my knees is the knowledge I won’t have the strength to get back up.
I remain in place as Otis is hauled to his feet and dragged onto the jetty. I don’t follow when Luca calls out, “Are you coming?”
“In a minute.” I need more time. Maybe a lifetime.
He nods, his focus already on retribution as he helps Sebastian drag the guard along the trail to the mansion, all three of them quickly disappearing from sight.
I stay there, alone in the silence, blanketed in darkness.
Is this what freedom feels like? Is it the tightness of pure isolation? The punishing weight of guilt? The acidic taste of failure?
Otis implied I remained in Luther’s house because they thought I was a joke. They laughed at my actions. They knew I was willing to sleep with my rapist, but they didn’t spare a thought as to the reason why. Maybe nobody else will, either.
I dig my fingernails into my palms, pressing harder and deeper, attempting to lessen the emotional torment with something physical. When that doesn’t help, I climb from the boat and use the sharp pebbles of the trail to punish me from my soles upward.
I walk with hard steps, increasing the pain. I stomp. I twist. I don’t stop until the faint shriek of male torture leaves me motionless.
For a second, my excruciating thoughts cease, my suffering placed on pause.
My breath remains trapped in my lungs as I wait for more of that rewarding sound. My heart pounds with yearning. My palms sweat with impatience.
I have to hear that cry again. I want Otis to wail and scream and blubber. I need it to help ease my anguish.
I run for the house in search of the sweet comfort, sprinting around the pool to pull the glass door wide.
Keira waits in the kitchen, her eyes widening at the sight of me. “Are you okay?”
I ignore her in my trek for the hall.
“Wait.” She hustles after me, cutting me off before I reach the archway. “What happened? Nobody has told me anything. Did your friends get to safety? I overheard Cole—”
“Three of my sisters are on their way home.”
She huffs out a relieved breath. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
“Three,” I repeat. “When there were five of us. Not to mention all those who died previously at your father’s command.”
Her relaxation vanishes. “I’m so—”
“I wish I had a definitive number to give to you because I’m sure you guys have some sort of family death tally, but I gave up counting a few months after I arrived.”
“Penny, I…”
“What?” I raise my brows. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. For everything.”
“Do you feel sorry when you’re putting on your designer clothes? Or those expensive shoes? Because you know where your family’s money came from, right?”
She pulls back, clearly offended.
“And are you sorry when you’re sleeping with the man whose family you destroyed? Are you sorry when you’re fucking my brother?”
“Penny.” She raises her hands in placation. “I didn’t do anything wrong. We didn’t know what was happening here and as soon as we found out we took action.”
“You found out three days ago?” I wave away my heavy sarcasm, not entirely sure why I’m trying to pick a fight. This woman means nothing to me. I don’t care what she says or thinks. All I want from her is instructions on how to find Otis. I need directions to help stop the insanity beating down on me. “Do I turn left or right down the hall to find them?”
“Please don’t blame me.” Her face crumples. “I haven’t gotten through this unscathed either. We’re all suffering. Some more than others.”
I should have triggered tattooed on my forehead for the number of buttons she simultaneously pressed. “Wow.”